The Phantom and the Con-artist
by lexzsmith
Summary: Erik Drestler is a reclusive architect living in his childhood home with his butler. After his father's death, Erik inherited a large fortune. That fortune is now being disputed by his long-lost mother who claims that he is unstable and tries to have him declared insane in order to gain control of his money. Erik must find a way to prove his sanity to the courts.
1. Chapter 1

Veronica Parker narrowed her dark eyes as she watched the Sunday morning foot traffic pass her by. It was not often that she found herself on a park bench, enjoying the early hours of the day, watching perfect couples push strollers with small children trailing behind them, dripping ice cream on their freshly laundered shirts and young women riding by on retro bicycles, their high ponytails swinging in the wind.

Frankly, it was a pastime she did her best to avoid, considering the nature of her work. It was never a good idea to be out in the open, at risk of being recognized. Self-preservation required a certain amount of discretion.

Jace Morgan had been very insistent when he telephoned her to say he needed to see her today. They had had a long-established appointment next week, but he had told her, rather panicked, that it simply was not soon enough. She had kept her comments to herself when she accepted the change in plans. Desperation would cost him. Veronica did not adjust her schedule without a price.

The payoff in this line of work was definitely worth the sacrifice.

She spotted him easily enough, frowning at his choice in wardrobe. He dressed like an off-duty cop. He should have worn a hat or sunglasses, but instead he was bare-headed and smiling at everyone in his path. He was drawing attention to them both as he strolled casually towards her. Reflexively, she adjusted her baseball cap, pulling it down further to shield her eyes.

"Never wear that shirt again," she said as he sat down.

"Excuse me?"

"The label is too flashy. Someone would be able to give a description of you too easily in that because you're catching their attention," she explained. "Never wear anything too recognizable."

"Miss Parker, my client will be hiring you to run a con, not an assassination." His words were curt, but laced with humor. She did not smile.

"Your choice," she said with a shrug, pushing a dark strand of hair behind her ear. "What was so urgent that it could not wait? I thought your client needed me in November."

"Change of plans," he said quickly. He reached into his pocket to withdraw an envelope with a strange seal. "The nondisclosure is in my car. He would like to meet with you now. But this… I have not read it, obviously. It's for you." She took the letter from his hand, feeling the unexpected silkiness of cardstock. He seemed to watch her expectantly.

"Where's your car?" she asked.

"Down the street, in front of the bake shop like you instructed," Mr. Morgan said. She nodded.

"I will meet you there," she said. He took a moment to process, but when she still did not look up, he began to walk back in the direction from which he came.

Veronica sighed. She was always hoping for a competent associate, but never seemed to wind up with one. The note in her hand drew her attention. She did not know many people who still went to the trouble of writing calligraphy on thirty dollar cardstock.

It was formal, specific. _All clothing and other necessities will be provided for you. Please be assured that you will be generously compensated for the change of plans._

The kind of man that wrote a note like that was used to getting his way. She was unaccustomed to following orders, but suspected the compensation would make it a little easier to swallow her pride.

The heels of her boots clicked aggressively on the pavement. When she spotted the car, she muttered an oath. She got in quickly, wordlessly, looking both ways before shutting the door.

"Oh good! You-"

"Drive!"

"Are you always this cranky?" he muttered.

"Do you always drive a fully loaded Mercedes through a low-income neighbourhood where it would take the average family twenty-five years of financial stability to buy a car like this?" she muttered in turn, finally looking up at him. He was taken aback a moment, forcing his eyes back on the road. Peculiar, most definitely, but she certainly was a striking woman.

He cleared his throat.

"The nondisclosure is in the backseat. Can you reach it?"

"Yes," she said, turning around in her seat. She noted that it was also printed on fancy legal cardstock, with certain areas highlighted in yellow. She frowned. "Extensive. Are you sure he does not expect me to assassinate anyone?" Jace laughed.

"He's thorough. He has a team of lawyers. I'm guessing that is a collection of all of their work."

"I'm going to read every page before signing it," she warned. "Anything strange in here and you'll be turning around."

"Miss Parker, I believe that now, after exchanging more than our fair share of emails, you understand the scope of this assignment. Anything found in there is only to provide my client with the kind of privacy he has fought his whole life to keep."

Veronica nodded, turning her head to look out the window. She knew a little something about needing privacy. It often felt like a prison. Isolation, whether forced or not, was a lonely place. In the early days of her work, she had foolishly believed she could have both, a life and this career. Before long, her thinking shifted. There was no room in her life for civilians. The work she did was only possible because she was alone.

"Your client is an agoraphobic?"

"No, I would not say so. More like a recluse. He is simply disinterested in the outside world. A choice, merely."

"No friends or family?"

"As you know already, his father is dead. Just the mother

now."

She was not usually so chatty, but something about this man's purpose was unlike her usual clients. And to serve, she had to understand. It was a simple formula for success. In her line of work, everything needed an algorithm. She left nothing to chance or fate. For things to function, she needed to isolate patterns, to apply change, to replicate, to manipulate. She played God.

"Miss Parker, when you meet Erik… He is a very calculated man. He would not be employing you if he was not absolutely sure which outcome he desires. "

 _Good,_ she thought, _a client that knows exactly what he wants._ It would be a welcomed reprise from the nuanced emotions of angry trophy wives.

He was just what she needed.


	2. Chapter 2: The Meeting

CHAPTER TWO

"So you're the con woman?" he said, at last looking up from his papers. He was not the kind of man who wasted time on pleasantries, or hellos, apparently. If he had any kind of reaction to her, good or bad, he kept his face unmoving and aloof. Or at least the side of it she could see.

"And you are the recluse.."

"What in the world compels someone to be a con woman?" he mused. She paused a moment, weighing his question.

"Just the usual dark-alley reasons… Daddy disappeared, mommy never loved me. I didn't need a fifty-thousand dollar student loan and I don't have to take off my clothes."

"Fair enough."

"Speaking of fair, I would like to discuss some contractual specifications. I only do partial nudity and only when it is absolutely necessary. Any sexual relations are off limits and that is not a negotiable point."

"You come prepared," he said simply.

"Usually my jobs are a lot different. I pretend to date powerful men to get their wives more alimony. Pretty cut and dry."

"Sounds a little more complicated than that," he suggested.

"Occasionally, they try to have me killed."

"Oh?"

"They haven't succeeded yet," she added. His lips twitched.

"Evidently."

"I believe your note mentioned compensation," she pointed out. Erik smiled tightly.

"Indeed. I believe this figure will be sufficient," he said, withdrawing a paper from his portefeuille and handing it to her. Her eyes widened momentarily at the figure. It was more than she ever could have imagined, more than she was worth. She looked up at him in confusion.

His gaze was business, but also unsure. She supposed this was probably the first time he had done anything like this and imagined he must have many preconceived ideas about the type of woman she was, despite having the manners not to tell her so. He gave off an air of sterile professionalism. It certainly buried any fears she had had about blurred lines. It was strange, pretending to be involved with the man who hired her. Normally, she worked with a client to trick the unsuspecting ex-husband. Her clients before were always women, very different from the tall, dark, and handsome man sitting across from her. This felt quite different.. It felt… dangerous.

He had to know that she would find the mask… concerning. What was he hiding? Or… did he truly believe he was the Phantom of the Opera? The idea was ridiculous, obviously, but Veronica could not ignore the similarities. The name, the fact that this man was a world renown architect, praised for being a literal genius, who was also a gifted musician… And the mask. The white, porcelain half-mask that was iconic enough that even someone as uncultured as she would recognize it. He could have worn a medical mask if he had some kind of skin condition beneath it, but instead he wore that. Was that a coincidence too? What was really behind it?

"Mr. Morgan did not mention the mask," she said at last. "I have no intention of prying into your life, Mr. Drestler. I only want to know if it is anything your fiancé should or would know." The corner of his mouth twitched and she thought she saw his jaw tense. His eyes, very green, darkened, with rage or frustration she did not know.

"The mask covers a facial deformity. A birth defect," he said finally. She nodded.

"May I sit?" she asked.

"Of course. How… remiss of me," he said immediately. He did seem truly sorry, his face instantly softening. Veronica smiled at the return of his perfect manners.

"Thank you," she said. "I have read Mr. Morgan's notes, but I would like to ask you a few questions. To make this as… believable as it needs to be, we need to get to know each other well enough to create the right dynamic."

"Mr. Morgan warned me that I was not supposed to ask you questions," Erik commented. She smiled.

"I am whoever you want me to be," she said. "That's why you hired me."

"I am aware of the terms," he said sharply.

"Good," she said, ignoring his tone. "Let's start with that then. Tell me about your fiancé."

"My fiancé?"

"Me," she said patiently. "What is my occupation?"

"Are you musically inclined, Miss Parker?"

"I don't play any instruments," she said.

"Do you sing?"

"Only in the shower, and very, very poorly," she said. When he looked at her disbelieving, she smiled. "Like a drowning cat poorly."

He actually smirked, taking a moment to appreciate the strange way she said exactly what she was thinking. His exposure to people was very minimal, but from what he had studied of the outside world, he did not believe many people were as honest as Miss Parker. Or as beautiful.

Each time he snuck a glance, his breathing quickened. Her eyes were big and round, deep brown and thickly lashed. Her thick, beautifully arched brows framed them. Her nose was straight, small with a very slight bulbous tip. Her mouth was… sensual. Perfectly formed pillowy lips painted red, parting to reveal straight, white teeth when she smiled. Her cheekbones were prominent, but not sharp. Her face was still youthfully round, her cheeks dusted with rose. She wore her shiny, dark hair straight and bluntly cut, the length just above her breasts. She wore a simple black t-shirt, cut slightly lower than it needed to be, and a pair of snug denim, cuffed just above her black leather ankle boots, the high-heel giving her small frame a little boost. He could not help but notice that she was a very sexy woman. Erik looked away. He was sure that despite her kind manners, the thought of him studying her as a woman would be very disturbing to her. He swallowed, flexing his jaw. He reminded himself to behave as a gentleman.

"How are you with math?"

"Mr. Drestler, pick a career and I will make sure to study the role."

"My mother will be trying to prove that you are in this for the money and an unfit partner. Any angle she finds she will exploit." Veronica sighed. Normally, she avoided giving a client personal information, but she was discovering that it might be necessary just this once.

"I take pictures," she admitted.

"Photography. Nature or people?"

"Landscapes and buildings," she said.

"Excellent," he said swiftly. "How long have we been involved?"

"Two years," Veronica said. "I think that is an appropriate timeline. Enough time that it will not seem like you've rushed into anything."

"The picture of stability," he mused.

"Exactly." She looked at him awkwardly. What she knew she had to do next suddenly had her stomach in knots. Why was this so much easier when the other person was not aware of the con? She bit her lip nervously. "There's something else we should get off the table privately… so that it isn't uncomfortable in front of your mother, should the occasion arise…" she said trailing off.

Erik watched the way her eyes went wide, her lip trembling. What could she mean by that? Was she blushing or was it his imagination? He could not tell…

He clasped his hands awkwardly in his lap, hoping she did not notice the way he shook in her presence. Never in his life had he been in the presence of anyone so beautiful. Having her so close, having her eyes on him, made him want to retreat and call the whole thing off. Suddenly, losing his fortune was not so unappealing.

He realized she was staring at him expectantly.

"Whatever you believe is best, Miss Parker," he said simply, hoping that his answer made sense in the context of whatever she had said while he was hopelessly admiring her face.

Veronica nodded and took a deep breath. Slowly, she stood up, walking around to the other side of his desk. In two strides, she closed the distance between them, standing just in front of his bent knees. With a small smile, she crouched down in front of him, taking his hands into her own. He breathed in sharply,as though he spotted a ghost. His fingers were icy and his palms were coated with a cold sweat. His nervousness calmed her. She wasn't the only one afraid. She looked into his impossibly green eyes questioningly. The pain she saw in them tugged at her heart in a way she had never expected. She had the strangest impulse to comfort him somehow. She fought it. Not part of her job description, she reminded herself.

Slowly, but determinedly, she brought her lips up to his. Erik jolted his head back in surprise, ripping his hand from her and bringing his fingers to his lips as though to confirm what had just happened. His eyes widened in terror, but she smiled reassuringly.

"Trust me," she whispered softly, holding out her hand for his once again. He stared into her deep brown eyes, his heart pounding violently against his chest, his skin and soul heightened to the feel of her. Terrified to continue but unable to resist her, he obeyed, once again allowing her lips to come up to meet his.

His mouth was cold and Veronica felt the smooth porcelain of his mask against her cheek. It felt foreign, but not unpleasant. Patiently, she coaxed his lips, pleading for a response. His mother would take one look at this kiss and know it was all a deception…

Erik had never felt anything so… strange. It was as though his entire body was coursing with electricity. Beautiful music flooded in his mind, each touch adding to the crescendo of notes that would be permanently scored to his heart.

When she pulled away, lips slightly parted, he felt the cool air where once there was warm flesh, and he bowed his head, unavoidably ashamed of his ineptitude.

Silently, Veronica rose. Instead of going back to her chair, she leaned her hip against his desk, deciding that perhaps if they were to work on the chemistry between them proximity would help. He needed to become more comfortable with her presence.

"More questions," she said finally. "How did we meet?"

Erik took a moment longer to regain his composure, his lips still tingling. Her closeness made him terribly uncomfortable. Jace would scold him for not just playing along. This scheme had been crafted by the combined intelligence of his four lawyers, their ivy league educations clouding their practicality it seemed, for clearly that had all missed the mark. How had no one predicted the effect this charade would have on his life? Erik Drestler who had never so much as laid eyes on a beautiful girl in real life was now kissing one, and was supposed to remain unaffected by it? Impossible, he thought angrily, tightening his jaw.

"I never leave this house. My mother knows that," he admitted. Veronica smiled reassuringly.

"I have an idea," she announced. "The forest behind your house belongs to you, right? Well, I am a photographer who ignores private property notices. I waltzed on back there like I owned the place to get the perfect shot-"

"And I caught you?" he asked incredulously.

"And charmed me into having dinner with you," she said with a smile of satisfaction. "It's perfect."

"Alright," he said slowly, pressing his palms to the tops of his thighs to steady himself. "Next question," he said.

"The proposal. Every woman will ask about that," Veronica said. "How, when, where… All those little details."

"How would you want a man to propose to you, Miss Parker?" he asked boldly, not sure with the sudden courage had come from.

"Christmas Eve," she said quietly. "At midnight. In front of a wood burning fire, just the two of us." Veronica could hardly believe it was her own voice she heard. What was she doing? This was not the kind of answer she should be giving a client… She could not let him into her world, her real world. "You proposed using my camera! When I developed the negatives, I saw a photo of a ring with a note."

Erik nodded, accepting her answer. She was making the distinction clear, he realized. Her real life was not meant to be business, yet… She had told him. He realized in awe that she had shared something personal with him without even meaning to. Suddenly, he felt very honored.

"I have a ring for you," he said, regaining his composure. Truthfully, he had been so enthralled by his make-believe-fiancé that he had nearly forgotten about it. Leaning over her denim clad thigh to access his locked drawer, he withdrew the Tiffany's box. Veronica's eyes widened briefly, but she resisted the urge to comment. The cost of the ring didn't matter. It was a loan, she reminded herself, a prop.

Such logic was lost when she saw it. She was not immune to the sparkling solitaire diamond. She wanted to be, wanted to be above the consumerism that surrounded such archaic traditions, but something about this man and his stupid, endearing uncertainty holding a blue box with a glittering rock made her feel so… soft. She felt warm and fuzzy, emotions she tried to stifle.

"May I?" he asked, removing the ring from it's velvet cushion. She managed a nod, watching with an involuntary smile as he slipped the ring easily onto her narrow finger.

"What happens if I lose it?" she asked sheepishly.

"You'll have to give me an equal pound of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken in what part of your body pleaseth me."

"Anyone who can recite Shakespeare from memory does not scare me," she said. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"My mother certainly believes me to be capable of such horrific things."

"We are going to prove to her that you're not, but honestly… You could have done that on your own. You are a good man, Erik," she said. He stared at her, a cautious smile touching his lips. "Just don't let me convince you that you don't need me, because I still want a paycheck."

"You must be tired, Miss Parker," he said quietly, needing to get out of her presence before doing something irreparably foolish. "I'll walk you to your room."

"Of course, but please call me Veronica. You'll have to soon enough," she said. He nodded, standing slowly. She suddenly felt unbalanced. He was so incredibly tall. It was the first time she saw him standing. She straightened next to him, linking her arm through his. "After you," she added, when he did not move. Jolted to realization, he began leading her out of the room.

She had spent a few hours alone exploring the house, but it was still new enough to amaze her. Everything about his home was breathtaking and opulent. Considering his work, it did not surprise her that it was so expertly decorated, each piece unique and exotic. She wondered if he had travelled to collect them…. Probably not, she realized sadly. He had told her he never left home.

She took a moment to appreciate the artwork he had selected. She wondered if any of them were originals. With the size of the house and the obvious wealth here, it would not have surprised her. She tilted her head towards him. His face betrayed no emotion. She wondered what he was thinking about all of this. If they had been friends, she would have asked. Instead, she bit her lip and concentrated on learning her way around the house. She needed to know this house as though she had lived here for the last two years by tomorrow. She had her work cut out for her.

Standing in front of her bedroom door, which was at the top of a spiral staircase, Erik finally acknowledged her again.

"Goodnight, Miss-"

"Christine."

"Christine." He made her name sound like a caress. Perhaps Miss Parker was more comfortable after all…

He surprised her by turning to leave without saying another word. Her eyebrows shot up. God, this was going to be difficult. How was she supposed to teach him how to act, she wondered? He needed to be a doting fiance, not a man who retreated without so much as looking back longingly.

"Erik!" she called after him. He turned back to her, surprise in his eyes. "You should get into the habit of kissing me goodnight," she said, instantly regretting her words. After their awkward moment in his office, was she really subjecting herself to this again? Clearly, he did not want to kiss her or did not know how. She was beating a dead horse, evidently.

The way he looked at her changed her mind. He walked towards her purposefully, closing the distance between them with two strides. Her eyes widened with curiosity. Slowly he lifted his hand to her face. The feeling of his hand made her shiver in anticipation, her eyes never leaving his. The air around them thickened as he lowered his mouth to hers, his lips brushing hers so lightly she was barely sure he was kissing her.

She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Erik felt her encouragement and deepened their kiss, working her mouth almost insistently. She parted her lips pleadingly, moaning softly, in awe of the passion he suddenly possessed. What was overtaking her? Her heart beat wildly and her breath was shallow and quick. And God help her, but she never wanted him to stop!

Erik clung to her, pressing his body to her soft contours, a satisfied groan caught in his throat. Never before had he known the exquisite torment of a beautiful woman's lips nor had he ever expected to. He realized now, slowly letting his passion cool, that something unchangeable had passed between them. For him, there would be not forgetting, no pretending. In his mind, this woman truly was the one he loved.

To him, this was real.


End file.
